2014.06.02 - A Man Among Gods
LATVERIA In the bowels of Castle Doom, a laboratory has been repurposed into a staging ground; rows of tables, tools, and reference texts have been removed in favour of sprawling machinery and obsidian pillars fill the cavernous space with an electric hum and a bone-deep chill. At the heart of the crackling network of cables, mainframes, and power rigs that comprise the machinery, there is a circular platform dozens of feet around, its middle composed of some paneled, transparent material while its titanium edges are carved with a series of runes that glow bright and red against the low light of the lab. At the center of that platform, there rests massive metal throne, unadorned save for the machinery snaking around its edges and ultimately securing it to the platform--and on the throne sits Doctor Doom, hands knit save for his index fingers, which rest gently against the grill of his mask. The pillars - four in all - form a square around the platform; not a single one of the wires and cables stretched throughout the lab so much as grazes the pillars, but their foundations are built into the larger device all the same. Luminous wings, misshappen claws, fanged beaks, and other bits of bizarre physiology occasionally jut from the pillar's surface, shifting up or down along it briefly before sinking back into their prison; if the Doctor is at all concerned about anything getting 'free', in some sense, his contemplative posture doesn't show it. "The calculations are complete," he murmurs, eyeing a helpful panel on his HUD. "I will be leaving soon, Boris; I trust that when I return with the fire of self-styled gods, I will pleased with what I see here." "Of course, master," the Doctor's retainer replies into his earpiece. He's many floors above the lab, circling the presently powered down robot that's about to be tasked with standing in for the Lord of Latveria to give it a final inspection. "I shudder to imagine the alternative." Without a word more for his servant, the Doctor brings his arms to the throne's rests and leans back; when he speaks again, it's in a tongue that hasn't been spoken on Earth since ancient days, and his commands bring the humming machine around him to roaring, sorcerous life. Electricity arcs through the air above him, dancing along wires and leaping between dynamos; the pillars rumble and howl as the things within struggle, but fail to escape before their essence is drawn into the platform. One by one, the runes ringing it go black, and as they do, more and more of the panels comprising the inner circle fall away into nothingness, until - after the first couple minuts of operation - the Doctor's throne is floating over a yawning abyss. It doesn't last, however; it, too, is drawn inevitably into the abyss, vanishing from this plane of existence-- APOKOLIPS *KA-DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!* --and emerging from a series of smoky, black concentric rings pulsating ominously in the burned skies of another. Horrible screeching and plumes of acrid smoke pour from the portal as Doom's throne sinks out of it, right up until he is fully 'on' Apokolips, at which point it closes and the noise and sorcerous pollution just fade into the atmosphere. Jets built into the throne mean that he's able to remain above the rabble dotting the metal surface of the world, but his innate curiosity prevents him from flying too high to take a few preliminary scans and images of the surroundings. Before going anywhere, though, he turns his left hand over so that he can touch a button in his wrist and set his communication systems to broadcast on any and all frequencies it can pick up on--as well as via speakers built into the armor, so anyone in the immediate vicinity can hear him, even if he can't broadcast: "I will speak with the lord of this place, and no other," he says, splaying his hands across the throne's controls. "If you are within the sound of my voice, Darkseid, then hear me now: Doom would have words with you about the future. To anyone else who hears me: you may either show me the way to your master, or keep yourselves from my presence; to do anything else would be a pointless exercise in trying my patience." Once the message is delivered, the Doctor will wait for a sign, a response, a lowlie pointing him in the right direction, anything; if nothing comes, then he'll begin flying, using his scanners to guide him towards any high concentrations of, or just plain unusual sources of energy in the hopes of locating Darkseid that way. Somewhere deep within Apokolips, a number of sensors go off. The planet comes alive with multiple sources of energy, shuttering information to those of the proper importance to know. "Dimensional breech detected in Sector 712. Energy readings show mystical/technological hybrid." A number of probes are whirling overhead only a heartbeat after Doom's arrival. They look simplistic and small, but they cast massive waves of blue, narrow-band energy that sweep entire blocks at a time. Dr. Doom, of course, would be caught in this diagnostic, but has the capability to shield himself. They are surprisingly potent however, and it would take more effort to keep himself unknown than he likely expected. Yet the energies from his arrival are another matter entirely. * Breech location found. Single individual in proximity. Error: Energy scans inoperable on individual. * Flanking Dr. Doom in all directions are massive structures made of some peculiar form of metal, thrusting dagger-like as high as the biggest skyscrapers in Earth. They have no windows, only numerous openings. Series of bridges both high and low whirl between, but the buzz of activity is immediate. Machines and probes burst round just shy of breaking the sound barrier. Parademons flit about in the sky. Well-armored men upon aero-discs reminiscent of the Green Goblin similarly navigate. And far below, almost out of sight amongst the canyons and cracks near the metal foundation, thousands of dishevelled bald figures toil in squalor, having shacks and nothing more But the announcement made seems to cause the very city to come alive. It does not feel like singular machines, but an organic network moving as one. A massive hexagonal shield erupts for a mile around, sealing the sector. A cursory appraisal by Dr. Doom would show it nigh impregnable to any force reliant on physics, kinetic, energy, or otherwise. The strongest nuclear weapons of Earth would likely not even make them flicker. A moment later, a dozen men on Aero-Discs are hovering in front of Doom, many of them outfitted in grey and black armor. Half are much more heavily reinforced, wielding giant shields and huge plasma cannons. The others hold more mundane plasma cannons. A dozen Parademons have similarly descended, green and yellow monstrosities of genetics and cybernetics, only a half-face visible beneath goggled helm, flesh twisted and snarling with sharp teeth. The one at the forefront wears a crimson and black outfit, and a peculiar helmet with a single eyepiece, his aero-glider seeming higher technology. Oh? He is powered. Metahuman. Of moderate ability, if unknown. "I am Phazer, of the Special Power Force. You are an invader to Apokolips. Submit immediately, or we will take you by force!!" Force. Yes. Of course, that is the only true way to get the attention of the God of Evil. In this world, power is the only thing acknowledged... The scans aren't unexpected, but his armor's security systems failing one after another to keep his armor's secrets secret is; his eyes narrow ever so slightly, he lifts his right hand, and with a reverberant word and twist of his fingers, he alloys his compromised security with mystical protection. Once that's handled, he settles back on his throne to wait for his sign--and when it comes in the form of a nearly unbreakable prison, he lets a low noise of annoyance pass from his lips. It certainly doesn't take a genius to see what's coming next, between that and the sky-patrolling soldiers; when Phazer and his unit descend on him, the only movements he makes are to lift his head to watch - and scan - them while brushing his left hand across a row of buttons on that side of the throne. "Force," he repeats in a flat and thoroughly unimpressed tone. After a small, humourless chuckle, he tilts his head curiously to one side and muses, "I would have accepted guides--even escorts, as I am but a guest on this world, but to demand submission of one seeking an audience with his fellow ruler...? No. You will, indeed, take me to your lord--" He taps one of the buttons his fingers are moving over, and in response, a number of small, violently crackling Tesla coils pop out from several places along the back rest of the thing. Sparks dance along the Doctor's armor as the electric elements of its arsenal are engaged, tapped, and ultimately expressed through the coils as bursts of electricity intended to arc through the bodies of Phazer's men like a vengeful storm. "--but the only force applied will be Doom's!" he swears, voice cutting through the din of unleashed energy. "You are a naive, ignorant fool if you think Lord Darkseid would ever deign himself to meet a commoner. This is no tourist planet, where anyone with a flying throne can ask to see a God. None but his Elites can even seek audience with him intentionally... what are you to him?!" Phazer states, with the raw arrogance only possible from an individual who has absolutely no knowledge on Victor von Doom. "Invaders are to be beaten down, stripped, and then interrogated. If you have any use to Lord Darkseid... it will be decided by those who are breaking you!!" However, the assault wasn't expected. Normally when people come to Apokolips in such a manner, it's not with hostile intent. It's usually a suicidal gesture in the end. Phazer's aero-glider rockets up in a heartbeat, but the intense cracks of energy dance between the others present. It appears that advanced armor is quite well-insulated, something interesting to note as their smoking forms fall from the Aero-Gliders to impact the bridges far below. If someone of meaningful ability had been wearing them, that might have been ineffective. "Attack!! Attack him!!" Phazer demands. Suddenly his body glows with energy, visible motes of light swirling up and gathering in front of his eyes. A potent blast is fired directly towards Dr. Doom. It's strong, indeed. Enough he might need to bother with his forcefield. Some poor imitation of Scott Summers, perhaps? The Parademons had been flanked far enough away to avoid the initial onslaught, and with a screech move to swirl in all directions, plasma cannons and huge two-handed staffs beginning to fire intense plasma blasts down. "Invasion in process on Sector 712. Countermeasures engaging." Huge panels slide away from the side of countless buildings, and gigantic cannons slowly whirr out. Dozens of them. And countless more Parademons, Armored Forces, Aero-Forces, and mechanical defences are also filling the air. They are quite a distance away, but Phazer and his forces are a mild hassle. "Sealing dimensional integrity of Sector 712." follows, before there's a great burst of intense blue energy, flowing up and cracking into the shields. Sensors pick up an all but completely isolated space/time now. Only the Source seems free to easily flow through it... with the power of Apokolips backing it up, alternative methods are likely all the difficult to brute force through. The lowlies are fleeing now, hiding in any nook and cranny they can find, cowering with an instinctual familiarity bred through hundreds of generations. Doom's sensors spike violently as that energy builds in Phazer's eyes, and the readings are indeed alarming enough to warrant bringing his force field online; ruby red energy clashes against the translucent yellow bubble that springs up around he and his throne, but even after it's joined by bursts of plasma, the Doctor's shields hold. <> pops up in the Doctor's field of vision. <<89%... 87%... 84%...>> For now; with reinforcements entering the field and the city's own defenses coming to life, he doesn't particularly want to try and fight a battle of attrition; given such endless numbers, it's one he'd eventually lose. Instead, as the unleashed fury of Phazer and his subordinates splashes off of his barrier, the Doctor briefly braces against the arms of his throne so that he can rise from it and 'stand' in mid-air, the soles of his boots taking on a soft, blue glow as the anti-grav devices hidden within are engaged. "You speak as if you know me," he muses, arms folding as he floats towards Phazer, If Phazer actually tries to maintain some distance, he'll speed to try and continue closing the gap; if not, however, he maintains a brisk, but comfortable pace, as if strolling through the streets of Latveria rather than approaching a hostile alien. "as if your life as the lapdog of a king has somehow granted you insight into the mind of one. As if your meager powers could ever enable you to comprehend what it is to be a superior being. Here--I will allow you the barest taste of my power, so that you may measure your own against it, and reflect on the gulf between them." He stretches a hand out towards his aggressor as if offering it to him, and then the barrier around the Doctor's body flickers out, fades--and reappears around Phazer. The Doctor's field is a powerful thing, capable of withstanding blows from mighty superhumans and devastating ordinance; in fact, it is so effective that he refrains from using his armor's weapon systems while it's protecting him, lest he be destroyed by his own genius. He doesn't actually know whether or not Phazer too alert - or just plain too tough - for such a gambit to have any effect; the answer should prove interesting, if only passingly so. At the same time, Doom makes a sharp shift from chasing after Phazer to descending towards the surface to avoid plasma fire; the sheer volume of it means that a couple of cannon shots still graze his descending form, though, turning what might have been a graceful landing that left him on his feet into a rough, crouched one. Still: even on bended knee, Doom is not one to submit easily; as he retakes his feet, he flicks a switch on his right wrist, then stretches his hands out towards the Parademons choking the sky. Small apertures open in the tips of his gloves, releasing streams of molecules that expand impossibly into enormous boulders as they're launched into the sky in the hopes of making it more treacherous for Phazer's reinforcements to fly through. The fact that they might make him a more frustrating target for their weapons is a fine bonus, but since the skyscraper-mounted cannons are still in place, he'll begin moving through the alleys between them to try to, if nothing else, keep the number of giant guns pointed at him to a minimum. All the while, his scanners search the space above him, seeking some sign of Phazer's destruction or persistence. Phazer looks genuinely surprised when Doom manages to not only endure his blasts, sustained as he continues to glow, and even manage to rise in the attempt. The approach is not met with a step backwards. No; such an act of cowardice or fear would be a death sentence. Instead he draws in more energy, veins superimposed, crack appearing on the monocle-like goggle as he continues his vain assault. Teeth are grit and body tense; although it may be effortless to move for Doom, he is using everything he has and more. A raised hand causes him to look momentarily confused, before it sheathes around him. His beam immediately strikes the interior wall, and there's a horrific, massive eruption of crimson energy. A thrum can be felt through the shield, as it rages with the brightness of a contained sun. When released, only ashes drift down with fragments of blackened metal. Parademons are dangerous opponents in numbers; as strong as Spider-Man and tougher in armor, wielding godly-tech plasma weapons, fearless enemies trained and conditioned to happily die in battle and revel in pain. Boulders hurtle towards them, however, striking half with ease and sending them flying away with roars. The others land heavily, twisting to fire down the twisting alleys that Doom shifts through. Lowlies cower in tight balls as out of the way as possible. Although Phazer has been dealt with thoroughly, raw number can be felt all around, and the output of the buildings' cannons are far above what Phazer could manage... "Enemy combatant power raised to Class A. Subjugation forces notified. Elites notified. Shifting to battlefield mode." Suddenly the buildings around Dr. Doom begin to shift. The ground beneath rockets up, alleys collapsing and retreating, huge shutters whirling to seal the Lowlies within. Unless Doom attempts to leap down amongst them, he'd find himself quite in the open, with hundreds of enemies clouting the sky, and grandiose laser batteries whirring to face him. At this point, most minds would submit. But most minds are not Dr. Doom. Doom allows himself the briefest of smiles when his sensors register Phazer's destruction; it'll be a little while before his force fields are rebooted and ready for operation again after that stunt, but the pleasure of teaching such an unruly inferior his place is difficult to deny all the same. Of course, the lack of a field means that facing the forces of Apokolips in the open will be dangerous at best, and the Parademons' unholy persistence makes diverting them or disappearing beneath the cover of skyscrapers and flying boulders a temporary measure at best, and so he quickly whispers words of power intended to help him bridge these conflicting approaches as he stalks through the alleys. Shortly after the spell is finished, he makes a sharp right turn--and simultaneously continues down the road he was travelling along for several feet before taking to the air. When he comes to a four way intersection not long after that, enough Dooms emerge from the first to follow each path and continue the process with the whatever twists and turns they, in turn, might encounter. Before Doctor Doom can fill the streets with an army of duplicates, though, Apokolips catches him by surprise when it reconfigures itself for war; with that one maneuver, his deception is laid bare, forcing him to confront an army of fanatics and their artillery support with nothing but himself to himself to rely on. The other Dooms continue marching(or, in the case of the flier, aimlesssly ascending) while Doom-Prime's eyes dart rapidly beneath the slits in his mask, tracking both his enemies' forms and the veritable cloud of reticles that his systems are superimposing over his field of vision. If any plasma fire happens to catch the other Dooms as they march across the now open battlefield, they'll crumple and fall like living things before shattering like the magical images they are. "Very well," he exhales, holding both hands out to his sides; one radiates energy from his weapon systems, the other channels the infernal chill of a place nearly as hellish as this one. Any remaining clones stop their listless march to Apokoliptian destruction, then, unmoving until Doom launches an arc of burning plasma into the sky with one hand and snaps the fingers of the other, enacting a spell to granting his simulacra enough substance to reinforce him, if only temporarily. At that point, some take flight, others remain on the ground, but all of them unleash spontaneous boulder clouds, electrical storms, bursts of plasma, freezing rays, and numerous other technological wonders upon the forces of Apokolips. Their weapons don't carry quite the same destructive force as Doom's own, and they certainly aren't as resilient as he is; a few well-placed shots from the Parademons' weapons or a single shot from any of the mounted guns should still shatter them. As for Doom himself: he'll take advantage of the carnage by flying among the other hims and concentrating most of his efforts on pulverizing the turrets with concussive bolts and flying rocks. He'd like nothing more than to find - and disable - whatever generator is maintaining the shield that imprisons him, but that will have to wait until he and, now, the couple dozen other hims have taught the legions of Apokolips the same lesson that their lieutenant learned: Even a universe removed from his kingdom, Doom submits to neither man nor god. "Submit, Intruder." comes the same oddly feminine voice that has been heard since Doom's arrival. The grand Celestial-like supercomputer at the very heart of Apokolips, after all, is based on the same wonders as the Mother Box. It almost sounds soothing, an alien contrast in the planet's living hell. No fire immediately comes. Apparently, the forces presently opposing Dr. Doom expect nothing less than him to lay down his arms in the face of an army, one the entirety of the Justice League and other incredible beings struggled with. Apparently, they are fools. The wandering Dooms, traced by many figures but not as of yet attacked, freeze as intended. The building energy causes a rise of alarm, but not in time to intercept the first move. Countless blasts and hellfires rain down from the simulacrum, taking down a number of the lesser Aero-Corps. Parademons are sent staggering away but remain conscious, as the Armored Corps desperately defend. Plasma fire erupts towards them in kind, but they hold their own well. Yet another of the Special Powers Force has arrived, hurling whirling vortexes of energy that manage to suck one in. It's certainly an excellent distraction, as a number of the static cannons also fire; great, massive blasts two meters wide, filling the sky. They impact the metal buildings opposite, but only blacken and singe. Able to calculate the offensive force of those weapons, this world must be made of incredible materials. The 'prime' Dr. Doom's assaults find the turrets to be incredibly resilient. Rocks shatter upon them without effect, and his intense blasts only dent the material. It is as if this entire planet is crafted of adamantium! But amidst the chaos, sensors find a number of high-tech energy sources conduiting down towards a central location. A relatively small hatch, easily overlooked normally. A focused, intense blast directly into it would break through the hatch... and cause the equivalent of the circuit to overload and explode. Suddenly every static defense shuts down with a whirr, buildings shifting awkwardly in a loud grate upon one another. The shield overhead flickers and shifts, before a much more transparent version is kept up through secondary generators throughout the mile-wide area of Sector 712. But for a number of blocks, the ability of the planet to attack him has been removed. The last of the dopplegangers fall, leaving dozens heavily damaged or killed in their wake. But a literal wall of Parademons rushes forward, distant blasts of plasma fire raining down upon him as the new arrival from the Special Powers Force throws one of those whirling black energy vortexes; something that draws and condenses matter into a near singularity, but the energy that makes it up is very unstable. His forcefield would be recharged by now, and there is no question Doom will survive this assault. Although what comes next might be most surprising yet. "ENOUGH." Like time has stopped, every single assailant stops dead. Hundreds; those on aero-discs floating in place with weapons raised, slightly rising up and down. The parademons simply hover, and actually have a look of horror. The black and silver adorned opponent backs away, trying to be still. Slowly from the sky, a grandiose figure descends. Titanic, visible skin armored in granite, the word 'God' fits Darkseid like few others. All of Doom's sensors would likely fail to quantify him. An entropic, volatile energy is within him at a level that should be impossible for any being his size to possess. More intensive or focused probes... would be likely to only short out and destroy such scans with indications of 'Immeasurable'. "A single intruder... and an entire sector cannot stop him?" "Pathetic." Crimson eyes flare, and a great beam suddenly roars towards Doom. But then it veers to the side; in a heartbeat it strikes a Parademon, blowing through as if he was made of nothing but dust. His body crumbles to blackness, disintegrating. With ruthless, unerring brutality, the beam zigs and zags, cutting down every fighter present one by one. Parademons screech and move to flee, those on aero-gliders try to fly away, many others fall to their knees and beg for mercy. None is granted. In a dozen seconds, not a single living being exists within three hundred meters. Black ash and dust slowly swirls about, descending to coat the ground in a heavy layer. "Your resistance impresses me, mortal. For that, I will hear you." Doctor Doom did not come here expecting to make war on Apokolips. When Darkseid's summons wormed its way past his defenses, he expected to meet a potential ally, or - at worst - a new rival to keep his eye on; had he known better, he might been better prepared for the occasion. As it is, by the time those fresh ranks of Parademons rush in to meet him, he's running low on magical resources after having expended so many in getting here and burning through soldiers, and his armor - while formidable - is simply not configured to murder endless numbers of posthuman fanatics. Making matters worse, he's sporting several fresh scorches and dents in his armor, as illusions and aerial maneuvering aren't quite enough to escape such heavy fire unscathed. Not that he lets any of that stop him from folding his arms defiantly over his chest as he lifts his head to the incoming swarm; the fact that his force field is ready and able to spring up around him when plasma rains down on him anew lends him quite a bit of confidence, of course. "How many more of your lives will it take to make you understand?" he bellows, throwing his shoulders back to cast the tatters of his cloak from it. "I am not an 'interloper'! I am not your 'prey', your 'conquest'--I am Doom, and I will be--" --captured in the pull of a strange vortex, apparently, because the Special Powers Forces member's hurled physics distortion interrupts him by threatening to draw him into itself. The soles of his boots and surface of his force field both glow brightly as he tries to free himself from its gravity, but struggle as he might, he ends up captured--briefly. The vortex constricts immediately around the outside of his field, and as warnings rapidly fire across his HUD, the distortion presses in against - and even seems to dent - the field in several places. The shield's generator hums loudly--almost angrily as it's stressed, and the strain being placed on it generates so much excess heat that its cooling systems are struggling to compensate. Despite the building heat, though, Doom endures until finally - after a minute or so, the black energy scatters; the shield drops shortly afterwards. Just in time for Darkseid to finally greet his visitor. Several seconds after Darkseid begins his descent, there is a small *pop!* and a little tail of smoke from a section of Victor's mask, where a telemetry device once was; a couple more follow, eliciting a low noise of annoyance as he taps his wrist and shuts some of his more sensitive sensors down. His right hand splays into something not unlike a claw as plasma gathers around it it--and even after Darkseid delivers his judgment to his followers, Victor keeps that glowing hand at his side, just in case. "They set out to do the impossible," he says of the soldiers swirling around them. "How could they help but fail?" He brushes a little ash from his shoulder, then continues, "I am Victor von Doom, Lord of Latveria; I've come to make your acquaintance and seek your partnership in taming the unruly masses of Earth." There's little reaction from Darkseid as he hovers at the same level as Doom. His face is neutral, but in a manner that is sheer indifference. As if the God of Evil is looking upon one he has seen countless times. That may be true. Although Dr. Doom is an exceptional specimen, Darkseid has faced thousands of worlds that had exceptional specimens. Making an impression on him can be a difficult thing, either positive or negative. But to cause such a ruckus after a one-man personal invasion on Apokolips...? When is the last time such happened? He dimly recalls a champion empowered by the lifeforce of his entire race teleporting in and beginning to rampage. It was far beyond a single sector, but it is still pleasant nostalgia. How rare it is, to have a challenge. "What is impossible is surviving on my world alone." Darkseid offers, tone harboring no room for argument. "But it should also be impossible to take down an entire Sector and hold off it's defenders. You are a difficult potential to quantify... ...which is something I like." A grin finally forms on his hardened features. He pulls out a smooth metal box, glancing down to it. There's a Ping! or two, and an expression of understanding. "Victor von Doom. Ruler of Latveria. Enemy of the Fantastic Four. A renowned genius of technology, and skilled sorceror. And a tactician of no small merit, with willpower to spare. Yes. Everything I hear supports what you say... and more. You undersell yourself, Doom. If you wish us to discuss diplomacy... then I am certainly open to it. I have a vested interested in this 'taming' you speak, and lack the ability to flex my muscle. You, however, I wager can be much more direct. Come." The box in hand gestures backwards, and there's a great CRACK as a white ball of energy forms. Rings grow out of it, warbling heavily, before the God of Evil walks through. On the other side can be seen another part of the metal planet, seeming within a structure laden with scientific marvels... "I have found that impossibility is subjective, when one is possessed of enough will," Doom offers in response to the God of Evil's musings. It's a statement of studied, observed fact rather than a boast; there's a certain degree of arrogance behind it, sure, but more than that, enough of his life has revolved around redefining the borders of possibility that he can't help but see it as mutable. The Mother Box draws his eyes - and a few careful scans - after Darkseid seems to discern his story entirely from staring at the device. "I hardly thought it necessary to belabor the obvious," he says without taking his eyes from the device; he spreads a hand out to his side, indicating the little piles of ash all around. After bringing dropping that hand and loosely clasping both behind his back, he shifts his attention up to Darkseid's eyes. "Though I must confess to wondering how much of the--unpleasantness that preceded this moment was born from curiosity, rather than xenophobic instinct," he thoughtfully says as the portal opens; it's followed by a low rumble in the back of this throat as his sensors spike madly in the gateway's presence. "Not that my forces would have done differently, of course," he adds once it is fully formed and he's able to follow Darkseid through it. Once he's on the other side, it isn't long before his sensors set about trying to record whatever they're capable of taking in. The New God's very presence makes this difficult, of course; he doesn't dare turn any of his more energy-sensitive gear back on, for fear of more unseemly system failures. "It is true," he adds as his armor works, "that I have the means to operate on Earth more directly than you do, but my kingdom is not hidden a dimension away from the rest of it; I must exercise discretion, or else put up with an endless parade of small-minded 'heroes' sullying my soil and wasting my precious time with their petty grievances." "Will is important. Will allows you to achieve your maximum, and indeed surpass it. But the will of an ant to resist the heel of a boot crushing down means nothing. One must always keep that in mind." Although Doom will easily note a very thorough weakness in the God of Evil. It's not arrogance... but a sort of routine. Someone who has experienced and lived for so long, it has become a liability. Where things move in years rather than seconds, and the dynamic action of someone like Doom is direly missing. Complacence in a power he has every right to be arrogant about, but leaves many holes that can be snuck around it, to those fearless and brave enough... Scans reveal nothing of value through cursory appraisal. The technology of the box is at the level of Celestials. So advanced it is the equivalent of magic. At least it makes nothing explode, however. "I am not familiar with Earth. This device has full access to countless databases on Earth, and can assemble useful profiles in microseconds. I use it on all who interest me." Only once they arrive on the other side and the portal collapses does Darkseid speak. "I had nothing to do with it." This is almost dismissive. "Standard protocol for a surprise invader is to forcefully detain and interrogate. Combative force in response results in full countermeasures. Continued resistance is when I am notified. When I was, I came to see what was happening. An impressive display, even if you may have eventually fallen." Darkseid pauses to look over his shoulder, curious. "...May." "There is no need for any to know we have met. Or have ever met. Computers nearly two stories high stretch up, and there's a grand terminal taking up a massive wall. Countless machinery is upon tables, devices of war, torture, and worse. "This is where DeSaad toils. He is an engineer perhaps above yourself, from a purely technological standpoint. It cannot be held against you, he's lived some hundreds of thousands of years in a planet with technology Earth may never achieve. So tell me... what, exactly, is your plan?" Readings confirm much. Data and input from the devices, computers, everything, all is beyond even the most advanced of written concepts in Earth's most modern minds. Only Reed has brushed against some of the things fully integrated and in motion. It is an incalculable amount of useful data, that would likely allow Dr. Doom to improve himself beyond the likes of Tony Stark as the true Invincible Man... IF he had access to it all. Doom keeps his opinions on the matter of who may or may not have fallen to himself, but if Darkseid were so inclined, he could probably determine the Doctor's feelings on the matter just by studying the man's eyes carefully enough: the certainty that he would have either found a way to persevere or died proudly after leaving his mark on the planet is readily apparent. "Of course; neither of us needs the attention," he finally agrees when Darkseid assures him that their meeting will be a secret one. When that is followed by the off-handed suggestion that DeSaad may well be his better, the Doctor narrows his eyes and looks away from the God of Evil to study the devices they're passing more intently; he doesn't refute the suggestion - if only because of the way that it's qualified, along with a desire to one day study the torturer's works, among the other wonders on display - but it smolders. Metal quietly brushes against metal as his right hand begins to ball into a fist, only to be flattened back out so that it can graze along a device's surface in passing as he exhales and collects himself. "My plan," he repeats, tearing his eyes away from DeSaad's works to look up at the God of Evil once more. "If your builder has hundreds of thousands of years behind him, then I can only imagine that you have had considerably more time to become as you are; I am not so foolish as to believe that you would teach another the secret of becoming like you, but I have come to learn, all the same. Your sciences, your culture, your history--I wish to know all that you will share of this dread place, so that I might use it to shape my sad, misguided world into something more susceptible to the will of a superior being. That is my plan, and there are scores more hidden in the cracks of it; I have begun to accept that it takes more than one stratagem, no matter how ambitious, to defeat opposition as stubborn as ours tends to be." "...Being?" Darkseid picks this out of Dr. Doom's statement, and nothing more. Slowly he turns, and takes a few steps towards the iron figure, one whom causes alarm amongst even the grandest heroes of Earth. He assumes that the armored scientist will not back down, and if he does not, Darkseid will stand directly in front. Looming above in a manner nearly three feet taller than the Thing himself. An attempt to meet Dr. Doom's eyes with his own burning crimson. A great pressure, a sheer intimidation, thrums out him in a wave. The very air warbles, and a lesser will would fall trembling to their feet, mind shocked and broken. "Tell me, Victor von Doom. When you say you wish to shape it to the will of a 'superior being'..." A small smile cracks his face. "Are you referring to me... or yourself?" Doom's hands clasp behind his back as the dark god approaches and looms over him; it's the only movement he makes, apart from tilting his chin enough to keep his eyes locked onto Darkseid's. When the psychic terror of his mere presence washes over him, he is drawn briefly back to his first brush with Hell in a dorm room a whole universe - and lifetime - away, where the fading, anguished cries of his backgrounded his own torment at the lord of that realm; now, unlike then, he remains unwilling to let allow even a hint of fear or despair to shake him. His systems are firing a veritable cascade of conflicting reports and warnings amidst the tide of fear, but he ignores them, too, as they are wholly irrelevant to the interplay at hand. Even when Darkseid finally speaks - smiles, no less - Doom's eyes hold no fear, and he maintains a calm, even-handed tone as he offers, "You would, of course, be welcome--privy to the full martial and material support of the planet; Doom does not forget his allies." Even though he's managed to hold firm under the God of Evil's gaze, he still tenses beneath his armour as he gives that response; respectful though it may be, he would be surprised if it was the one that Darkseid wanted. "Ha!" Darkseid suddenly states, leaning back and striking a fist heavily into a palm. "You interest me, mortal...! To meet me in the eye, and have the audacity to say such a thing. Normally, I would prove where we stand irrevocably. But I am no fool. Were I to break you physically, it you change nothing to your will. No. That cannot be shattered so simply, can it? And that is why I shall accept your proposal. After all, if a man does not have the sheer determination to think themselves on par with a God... then they are not worthy of my blessing." A hand gestures to the entirety of the room. "You may take one item here as a gesture of good faith. To do with as you will. But in the future, you shall deal with DeSaad. He is the one who I defer technological advancements to, and can better answer your questions... He runs the day to day affairs of this planet, and I imagine those are what interest you." A brief glance around shows a number of things. Many weapons that appear to be blasters, but of unique make. A few long rods with open ends. An aero-glider. A small grey box, mundane but similar to what Darkseid held... although a scan would immediately confirm it is a shadow of the tool the Dark God used. Something that seems like a bomb. A long staff with a blade on one end and a blaster on the other. A few small devices that could fit in the palm of Doom's hand, but with no idea what they may be capable of. "My only demand is humanity is not eradicated. You can enslave them as you wish. But I have need to analyze them in numbers. After such, you can do with them what you will. That is the only condition I have." The reason why? His own business, of course. Doom's eyes narrow curiously and somewhat cautiously when fist meets palm; had he been in Darkseid's position, it's quite likely that he'd be looking at a burnt pile of potential ally, rather than getting excited. But then--he is only a man of some four decades; it is entirely possible that, given a life as long as Darkseid's, he might grow to appreciate such willful defiance. His head follows the motion of the dark god's hand, and then he turns to take a few steps away from him, towards the devices on offer. "It is possible," he murmurs as he squints to inspect one of those palm-sized devices, "that I might need time to inspect these devices, before I am able to make an informed decision." He is careful not to actually take - or even touch - anything, in case Darkseid has it in mind to hold him to the first thing he grabs. "I do not wish to enslave them," he shares once Darkseid has given his condition, "only rule them as they should be: fully, but fairly. That said, you may analyze them all you wish; it hardly matters to me." The immediate, obvious question - why - does spring to mind, but he sets it aside for later; it's futile to ponder such things too deeply when the answer to that mystery could very well lie in answering - and understanding - the many smaller ones that Darkseid is offering.him a sample of. "Pick now. Or the boon will be revoked." is all Darkseid offers. Perhaps some manner of test. Can Dr. Doom intuit which of the many things might be most useful? To bring a piece of the highest end technology of Apokolips, forged by DeSaad himself, is the dream of most any scientist mad or otherwise. Many are clearly weapons, only the small devices remain unknown. "Good. Then we have reached an accord." He shifts out a device, creating another Boom Tube that leads back to Earth; in Doom's very own home country, seen shimmering through. "Take your toy. You may return at your leisure to speak with DeSaad. But his mentality is much different than my own... you might find him..." A smile follows. "Needing put into his place." "Hmp," Doom grunts. The pace of his circuit through DeSaad's chambers quickens quickens a little, bringing him eventually - and somewhat inevitably - back to that grey box. He's plenty confident in his ability to build effective weapons and flight devices, and while some of the smaller choices intrigued him - the level of technology on display is enough to suggest that even the most outwardly humble of tools could potentially be revelatory, if chosen and studied wisely - the mystery of them is a deterrent. Once his boon is taken, he heads towards the portal, nodding respectfully to the God of Evil along the way. "Understood," he says of DeSaad when his eyes return to the portal. "I will be certain not to put him there as firmly as I did your lieutenant, out of respect for your generosity." And with that, he steps through the 'Tube to return home. Even though he wasn't gone for nearly as long as he expected, he is grateful to have arranged for a stand-in; it may be a while yet before the people of Latveria are graced with their lord's presence again, now that he has a new device - and ally - to contemplate. Category:Log